


Standards

by Fancifullauren



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Almost Crack But Not Really, Domestic, Fluff, Humor, Kisses, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-02
Updated: 2013-04-02
Packaged: 2017-12-07 05:54:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/745055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fancifullauren/pseuds/Fancifullauren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Response to Anonymous Tumblr Prompt: <i>E/R, AU in which they meet their lovely son's partner</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Standards

**Author's Note:**

> Jean is named after Jehan Prouvaire, Javert is named after a man of great importance in the life of Marius' father-in-law.

Enjolras burst into his tiny home well past midnight, unceremoniously throwing his briefcase across the kitchen table with a sigh. He kicked his shoes off. It was silent, except for the steady hum of the refrigerator and Grantaire’s snoring from the other side of the house. He walked towards his bedroom, pausing when he saw light coming from under their son’s door. 

He was about to knock, but he heard talking from the other side. 

“Yeah,” came the voice of his son, “Pops doesn’t know about us yet. I told my dad, but he agreed that it’d be best to hold off on telling him. You know how he gets about me.” 

“Enjolras probably would make a big deal about it,” said another familiar voice that Enjolras couldn’t quite place, “But I’ve gotta go now. Big calc test tomorrow, you know.” 

The blond thought he would die on the spot when he heard the next thing: 

“Alright then. I love you.” 

“Love you too, Jean.” 

It was all Enjolras could do not to run screaming to his bedroom. Instead, he walked over as quietly as possible, and slid into bed next to his sleeping husband. 

The next day, as usual, Enjolras woke up early enough to kiss his son goodbye on his way to school. 

“Do you want me to drive you?” 

“I can drive myself, Pop.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Yep.” 

“Do you have your license?” 

“Yep.” 

“A lunch packed?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Did you get all your homework done?” 

“Yes, Pop, calm yourself!” 

“Alright, alright. Love you.” 

“Love you, too.” 

When Jean left the house, Grantaire practically jumped on his husband. 

“I missed you last night,” he murmured between kisses to his neck. 

“Yeah,” Enjolras replied, albeit a bit difficult, “I wanted to talk to you about that.” 

“I was hoping we could do some talking _later_ ,” replied Grantaire, rolling his hips forward. Enjolras gasped. 

A few minutes later and Jean was about to come back into the house because he had, in fact, forgotten his lunch, but decided he would rather go without when he heard loud moaning coming from the other side of the door. 

Enjolras lay on the kitchen floor with Grantaire sprawled out on top of him. “Can we talk now?” Asked the smaller man, poking his husband in the ribs. 

“I was hoping that would shut you up.” 

“You should know that it’s impossible to shut me up,” Enjolras quipped in response. “I wanted to know about Jean’s secret lover.” Grantaire’s heartbeat stopped for just a second. “I heard him Skyping with him last night and he sounded almost familiar. He also said his dad knew about him. Care to explain?” 

Grantaire sighed. “So I know how… protective… you can get of Jean, so we were going to keep this between us until he was ready to share it with you – so you cannot let him know that you’re in on this, understood?” 

He nodded in response, so Grantaire continued: “He’s been seeing Javert.” 

Enjolras choked on the residual cum and saliva in the back of his throat. “ _Marius and Cosette’s_ Javert?” He exclaimed, fighting for breath. 

“Yes.”

It wasn’t that Javert Pontmercy was an inherently bad kid. In fact, he was the star player on the lacrosse team, founded the school’s gay-straight alliance, had one hell of a singing voice, and rumors were already going around that he would be the valedictorian. Everything a father could ask for, really, except – 

“My son is dating a _conservative_.” 

“Now, Enjolras, it’s not as bad as it seems –“ 

“I should have known that boy was a troublemaker from the start!” 

“It’s not like he’s a _social_ conservative or anything –“ 

“And here I was, thinking we had raised our son to make good decisions!” 

“Enjolras, it’s really not that bad!” 

“I’m going to need to give that boy a stern talking-to—“ 

“ENJOLRAS.” 

That shut him up, if only temporarily. The blond gazed up at Grantaire. “Thank you. Now, if you would be so kind as to _accept our son no matter who he chooses to love,_ that would be ideal.” Enjolras was about to protest, but Grantaire laid a finger on his lips. “Not one complaint from you, mister. Our son deserves to be happy, no matter what the political leanings of his partner are. Javert Pontmercy makes him happy, and that’s all we can ask for.” 

Tears gathered in Enjolras’ eyes. 

“Are you _crying_?” 

“No, I just got radical right-wing fiscal policy in my eye, that’s all.” 

Grantaire leaned forward and kissed his tears away. “There, there, Enjolras. It’ll all be fine.” 

He groaned, though he wasn’t quite exasperated, considering the way Grantaire’s lips were making their way up his face and across his eyelids. 

\---

Dinner that night was uncomfortable, to say the least. Enjolras got off work early enough to enjoy an 8-o’clock meal with the family. Grantaire was trying hopelessly to make conversation. 

“So, Enjolras, how was work?” 

“Good.” 

“Jean, how was school?” 

“Alright.” 

“Classes going well?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Did you win your case, Enjolras?” 

“Yep.” 

“How did your client react?” 

“Relieved.” 

“Was the judge at all surprised by the verdict?” 

“No.” 

Awkward silence. 

Jean finally spoke up after pushing around the uneaten brussel sprouts on his plates for the past couple minutes. “Would it be okay if I went out to a movie tomorrow night?” 

Enjolras and Grantaire replied at the same time –

“Sure.” 

“With whom?” 

The parents exchanged a glare, and Jehan shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Um – Javert Pontmercy. You know, Marius and Cosette’s son. He saw a preview for this really cool new zombie movie coming out tomorrow, and asked if I wanted to come see it with him.” 

“Fine,” Enjolras conceded, “Be back home by 7 o’clock PM sharp.” 

“ _Enjolras,_ ” groaned Grantaire. 

“And I would like to meet him first.” 

Grantaire pulled his best _I-literally-cannot-believe-you-sometimes_ look of frustration. “You’ve already met Javert about a hundred times.” 

“Yes, and that was before he was dating my son.”

“ENJOLRAS.” 

Jean shot a panicked look at Grantaire. 

“Look, I told your Pop. I’m sorry. He can be so convincing sometimes, it’s not my fault. Especially when he does that _thing_ with his tongue…”

“DAD.” 

“Oh, right, apologizing. Sorry. Anyway, Enjolras agreed to keep an open mind about the situation” – he shot a glare at his husband – “and not be a judgmental prick.”

“I agreed to no such stipulations,” Enjolras murmured under his breath.

The young man just smiled. “Thanks, Pop. Don’t worry, Javert will be on his best behavior.” 

Enjolras scoffed. The small family proceeded to make idle small talk about the possibility and probable outcome of a nuclear war against North Korea and China combined until their dinner was finished. 

\---

Jehan came bursting unannounced into the house the next afternoon, completely ignoring the heated makeout session ensuing between the married couple. “Hello, lovebirds!” He sang, placing a fresh fruit tart onto the island counter. Courfeyrac followed in behind him. “I heard you two were having guests today, so we decided we would pop by and pay you a visit. It’s been, what, three days, two hours, and forty-six minutes since we’ve seen you last? Far too long! Look, I’ve made you a tart!” 

Enjolras and Grantaire had broken apart immediately after hearing the door slam open. 

“Thank you,” said a breathless Grantaire, “But really, it’s no grand affair. Jean’s just bringing home his new boyfriend, and Enjolras has got a bit of a stone in his ass about it.” 

“Looks like he was about to have _something_ in his ass.” 

Jehan elbowed Courfeyrac in the chest. 

“So, who’s the lucky boy?” Courfeyrac continued, sitting himself down onto one of the bar stools, Jehan settling himself onto his lap.

“Javert Pontmercy,” Enjolras all but spat. 

Courfeyrac laughed at his pain. Prouvaire let out a dreamy sigh. “Javert Pontmercy,” mused the poet, “What a darling! Jean is a lucky boy.” 

“Yes, well, it was lovely for the two of you to visit, but we’re expecting company in about an hour; but thank you for stopping by! We’ll see you at the meeting tomorrow, yes?” Grantaire gushed, ushering the couple toward the door. 

“Um… yeah, totally. See you later!” Courfeyrac said. 

“Goodbye!” Said Jehan, blowing a kiss before Grantaire slammed the door behind him. 

“What was all that about?” Enjolras demanded. 

“Sorry,” Grantaire apologized, shuffling up to his husband, “But you’re sexy when you’re angry, and I think I started to get a hard-on when your lips tensed up like that.” 

\---

Luckily, there was enough time for them to take a shower before Jean came home and made straight for his room. Grantaire went in to go check up on him. 

“Hey, you,” he said, sitting down on his bed and watching his son frantically throw clothes around the room.

“Dad, does this shirt make me look fat?” 

“Yes.” 

Jean threw a wad of socks at him. “No, really.” 

“You look fine, Jean.” 

“Fine? Just fine? Like, fine-fine or _fine_ -fine?” 

“That makes no sense whatsoever.” 

“Do you think I should wear a purple scarf, or an orange one?” 

“It’s ninety degrees outside.”

“Purple it is.” 

“Dad, what if Pop doesn’t like Javert?” He asked, his eyes sad. Grantaire invited him to come sit next to him, and the teenage boy reluctantly accepted. 

“You need to calm down. Do you like Javert?” 

“Well… yes.” 

“Does he make you happy?” 

“Mm-hmm.”

“And does he treat you well?” 

A blush crept onto Jean’s cheeks. “Yeah.” 

“Then who gives a flying fuck what Enjolras thinks? Really, do you think we would have gotten this far in our marriage if I let him make all the decisions all the time? We’d be broke and in jail within a week, max. It goes without saying that your Pop doesn’t always have the best ideas; you don’t need to listen to his opinions all the time. I never do.” Grantaire’s gaze grew dark. “But if you ever tell him I said that, the keys to your car might find themselves locked away in a safe, do I make myself clear?” 

“Crystal, sir.” 

“Good.”

\--- 

Meanwhile, Javert, clad in khaki pants and a sport coat, hovered his hand over the doorbell before an imposing blond man swung open the door. “Christian,” he greeted with a dazzling smile.

“Please, call me Monsieur Enjolras.” 

“Of course, Monsieur Enjolras. Pleasure to see you, then.” 

“Come in.” 

Javert strode in and pulled out a seat at the kitchen table for the older man. Enjolras took it reluctantly before Javert seated himself across from him.

“So… what movie are you planning on seeing?” Enjolras asked. 

His face lit up. “Cold Corpses – it’s about the last human on earth falling in love with a vampire-zombie-werewolf crossbreed and descending into insanity. It’s supposed to be awesome – all the critics gave it terrible reviews.” 

“Interesting.”

“Totally. Jean’s been wanting to see it forever, and my dad knows the guy who owns the cinema on Main Street, so I scored us some tickets. He was so pumped when I told him!” Javert’s enthusiasm was not lost on Enjolras, who smiled lightly at the mention of his son. 

“So you really like him, don’t you?” 

Javert didn’t miss a beat in gushing out: “Jean is, like, the best thing to happen to my life. He’s really freaking smart and so nice and… God, you have no idea how happy I was when he said yes. It was totally the best thing ever.” 

Enjolras leaned forward ever so slightly. “What happened when you asked him?” 

“I was so nervous, sir. I’m extroverted, you know that, but when it comes to Jean, I just… it’s like I can’t breathe, you know? Like there are a million words in my head, but I can’t get any of them out because he’s standing there and looking so perfect; there’s no way I could do it. So I wrote him a note and passed it to him in class. He turned this adorable shade of red – really, you should have been there, Chri- Monsieur Enjolras, you would have died. It was so cute. Anyway, he nodded, and then I swear I thought I would die then and there. But I didn’t, and, well, here I am!” 

The idea of his son being so respected and admired made his heart glow. Maybe, just maybe, he could get over the fact that he was a raging right-wing lunatic in order to see that he could be a good fit for his only child. 

\---

Jean almost passed out when he saw the beautiful Javert, light brown hair styled perfectly, freckles hidden away ever so slightly under a light dusting of powder foundation, padded sport coat making his shoulders look wider than they already were… it was all the young boy could do not to faint. And he was smiling, actually smiling, as was evident in his sparkling green eyes, as he conversed with his father. Javert caught sight of his date and gave him a wink, sending his heart aflutter. 

Enjolras looked over to see his husband standing with an arm around his son, positively beaming at them. “Oh, hello,” said the leader, “I was just talking to Javert here about the positive long-term implications that gun control would have on the American economy. But by all means, you two had better hurry or you’ll be late for your movie.” 

Javert put his hand on Enjorlas’ shoulder. “It was nice getting to talk to you, Monsieur Enjolras.”

“Please,” Enjolras interrupted, “Just Enjolras.” 

“Not on a first-name basis yet?” Javert asked with a wink. 

Enjolras, smiling, shook his head. “Don’t take it personally; nobody’s called me Christian since the fifth grade.” 

“Got it.” 

Jean waltzed up to his date, who held an outstretched arm for him. He took it happily. 

“Be back by ten, boys!” Grantaire called out as Javert was opening the passenger door for Jean. 

“Eleven,” Enjolras whispered. 

“Eleven!” Shouted Grantaire, clutching Enjolras’ hand. 

“Yes, sir!” Javert replied before climbing into the driver’s side, buckling up, checking his rearview mirrors, and carefully backing down the driveway. 

The couple watched their son disappear. 

“He’s a good kid,” Enjolras admitted finally. Grantaire gave his hand a squeeze. 

“Agreed,” replied Grantaire, “Jean’s picked out a good one.”


End file.
